


On-call

by Kapla_Quail



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Difficult Decisions, M/M, hero Abel, sick Keeler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 18:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17288849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kapla_Quail/pseuds/Kapla_Quail
Summary: When Colterons attack the Sleipnir at night, Encke is torn between his sense of duty and the love for his navigator...





	On-call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheNyghtRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNyghtRaven/gifts).



_The sound of Encke’s boots echoes from the metal walls as he rushes through the long, deserted corridor. He’s inside the conquered enemy spaceship and prepared to die any second because he’s in quest of the Teron commander and he’s all alone, the last remaining fighter of the whole bataillon. He thinks of Keeler while he pants and runs, but Keeler can’t help him now, Keeler is long gone and he has to fulfill this mission on his own, although he knows the prospects are pretty bad. Cold sweat pours from his forehead. And just when he finally approaches the end of the scary tunnel, a sudden, loud, brutal noise makes him jump, makes his heart stop, makes him wake with a start._

After a second of shock, Encke realizes where he is and that the deafening noise is actually the blaring sirens. Red alert! Encke inhales sharply. Keeler and him are on-call tonight.

Still sweating and panting, Encke reaches up and pushes the light on. He grabs his datapad to check the situation: Teron scouts advancing to the asteroid belt. He nods to himself. They have to be quick. “Those fucking bastards give a shit about nighttime lately”, he mumbles.

The thrill of the situation makes adrenaline rush through his veins, makes him forget his nightmare and get ready for combat quickly. But as he tries to climb over Keeler and out of the narrow bunk they share, he notices that despite the cacophony of loud alarms his navigator is still snuggled close to him and sleeping like a dead child, blanket drawn up to his chin, face half buried under his mass of silvery hair. Normally he’s the first on his feet. Something is wrong.

“Keeler! Wake up!” Encke shakes his lover’s bony shoulders while he hastily puts on at least some trousers and boots. Shakes more rudely when there is no reaction. The siren drives him out of his mind. Something is wrong.

“Holy shit, Keeler! We need to get dressed!”

Finally a reaction. Keeler stirs, whimpers, breathes strangely.

“Babe, come on, red alert, get up!”

No time to wait for his answer, Encke has to move. He tears the blanket away, grabs the navigator under the arms and hoists his limp body from the bunk, steadying Keeler to make him stand on his own feet what doesn‘t work out.

Encke is pleading now, he’s desperate. “Babe, wake up!”

Keeler feels icy cold and trembles, he can barely open his eyes. Encke grabs his wrist to check his pulse routinely: Keeler’s heart is racing. He’s having a seizure. With the utmost effort, the navigator disentangles himself from Encke’s arms eventually and staggers towards the bathroom door, swaying like he’ll faint any second. Encke jumps after him to keep him from falling.

“I’m sick...I need to pee”, Keeler mumbles confusedly while literally falling through the door.

“Keeler...!”

Encke stands there bewildered, the sirens are blaring, he watches the bathroom door close, waits and lets precious seconds pass. One part of him wants to rush out into the corridor where he hears the running steps of his subordinates. He knows he has to be there, too, but he also needs to stay here to look after Keeler. He winces, can’t decide what to do.

Suddenly, he hears his lover’s quivering voice from behind the door. “Run ahead, Encke...I’m okay, ’ll follow, just give me a minute...”

Encke grinds his teeth. “No, Keeler!” But then, he is the Lead Fighter, he has to be the first in the Hangar Bay to set an example for the crew and Keeler knows that, too.

“Encke, please!”, Keeler gasps. “You can’t help me!”

This is fucking true. “Shit.” Encke whines. “Take your spray, Keeler, please take care, I’ll be waiting for you on the ship, okay?”

Encke can‘t hear if there’s any answer, he’s already out of the room, following his crewmates along the corridor when it’s him that should be captaining the boys, when Keeler should be next to him to pass on the commanders‘ orders.

The sirens are blaring, red lights are flashing everywhere. In the crowded lift, Encke drums his fingers against the wall. He has to get down to the locker room quickly, he has to be the first one in the hangar bay, but the chances are bad. He ignores his crewmates around him, on his mind there’s only his navigator.

Encke knows everything about Keeler‘s sick heart, about the medication Keeler secretly takes and that won’t keep him going forever because what he really needs is a surgery nobody on this ship can perform. Encke knew from the very beginning that without it, Keeler might die every second. He thought about it more than he’d ever admit. But he never imagined it to happen in a moment like that, so inexpectedly, so brutally.

Finally they reach the ground floor. Some blue team fighters assault him with questions and he rudely casts them off while rushing towards the locker room. He tries to put his flight suit on as quickly as possible without the helpful, gentle hands that usually do the zipper on his back. He takes too long. His fingers are trembling.

In his head there’s a merry-go-round of dreadful images: Keeler contorted on the bathroom floor, his silky hair spilled on the tiles. His eyes are closed, his breath barely audible any more, his heart full of mortal fear. It beats for the last time and no one is there to hold him, to comfort him, to help him depart into Mother's arms whereto Keeler so fervently wishes to return. With that, Encke’s life is over, too. He will be punished for leaving him alone.

When he reaches the hangar bay eventually, a lot of fighter-navigator-couples are already lined up next to their ships. Encke has to run past all of them to get to the Xanadu, parked in the first row. He feels everyone’s eyes burn holes into his back: Where is the Lead Navigator?

His hands are trembling more violently now. Shit. He won’t be able to take one good shot with those hands. He won’t be able to take a shot at all if there’s nobody to pilot his ship.

The sirens are blaring. The recruits are watching him mutely in the noise, in the flashlights. They are puzzled. He’s puzzled himself. He knows he has to address the boys in some way but he can’t explain anything about tactics, that’s the Lead Navigator’s part. He’s useless, he’s only a fighter. However, he plucks up courage and speaks.

“Sons”, he hears himself say, “the Terons have made an advance to the asteroid belt in the sigma formation. We need to hinder their retreat in eliminating all targets. I count on you.”

The recruits watch him, flabbergasted.

In his helmet, he hears Cook’s voice barking at him: “Lead Fighter, did you lose your mind? Are you drunk on duty? This will have consequences! Where the hell is your navigator?”

Encke gulps. “I don’t know, sir”, he whispers. “I think I...lost him.”

Cook’s voice cracks when he shouts his answer: “Then hurry and find him again, soldier! If the Terons come any closer, they’ll discover our presence and put all our men’s lives at danger!”

Encke nods, he knows all this. The sirens are blaring, more precious seconds pass. If the blue team won’t be ready for take off in the next 60 seconds he’ll lose his job and get court martialled for denial of service. To achieve that, he could as well have stayed with Keeler. That’s where his place would have been. To hell with his education binding him to authority, his uncalled for sense of obligation. Thanks to that, he’ll never see Keeler again.

Suddenly, a figure in a white flight suit and helmet comes running through the hangar bay with powerful steps, evading men and ships and heading directly for Encke. The Lead Fighter flinches, his heartbeat accelerates. It’s a miracle. It’s Keeler! He made it.

But something is wrong. This is not the way poor feeble Keeler usually runs, and this stranger is also much taller and muscular than his childlike partner. When the white figure comes to halt in front of him panting, Encke stares at him as if he were a ghost.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Abel, sir”, the navigator gasps, “from the Reliant.”

“The Reliant?”

Encke shuts his mouth with his hands and gapes in barely disguised shock.

“Sir, Lieutenant Keeler called me”, Abel stammers. “He said it’s an emergency because he’s sick and had to take some spray so he can’t fly. He begged me to help him, to secretly replace him as I know all the programmes just like him because we work together in the lab, you know. He said that maybe if we were doing well, nobody will notice anything and that’s our last chance, sir.”

Brown dog’s eyes stare at Encke’s, Encke stares back. Suddenly, Abel steps forward, the visor still closed, and speaks to the recruits that stand at attention for a long time already now. He explains the situation exactly, sets a flight formation, yes he even ends his commands with Keeler’s usual “May Mother be with you”. No actor could do it more convincingly, and the recruits seem to believe him, don’t notice they’re fooled.

Like a thunderbolt, Abel climbs the ladder up to the Xanadu, Encke after him. When he closes his hatch, Abel is already starting the engines, boosting the software and the ship starts to vibrate. In what seems like the blink of the eye, the Xanadu shakes and roars and takes off, and the crew’s ships follow her in short intervals.

“Left wing, stay together!”, Abel shouts over the comm. He’s completely in his element, keeps the formation tight, feels where support is needed, makes the right decisions like he’s never done anything else. It’s incredible. Of course the young navigator doesn’t pilot the ship as smoothely and foresightfully as Keeler. Keeler’s elegant way of flying is one of his special gifts, but apparently this technique is dispensable, Abel’s style works just as well. Encke can’t believe he is actually compatible with another navigator.

Abel is so determined, he doesn’t even tremble when they meet the enemy, his voice is firm as steel when he shouts: “Encke, take the shot!“ And Encke does, suddenly desperate to make it back to the mothership because only now he comprehends that Keeler is alive, that he found his spray and even managed to organize his own substitute.

Abel is doing great. When the Xanadu returns from the skirmish as head of the formation, sweat of relief pours down Encke’s face. Over the comm Abel is explaining something to Cook who seems content with the results. Can this be possible? Is this another dream?

“Sir, there’s a message from Keeler coming in”, Abel rejoices while he prevents the crew members and command from overhearing this conversation.

“What...what is he saying?”, Encke asks and doesn’t recognize his own voice.

“He says that after touchdown, I shall keep the visor down when we dismount, he’ll be waiting for us in the locker room where we switch roles again.” Abel’s voice softens. “He says you shouldn’t worry, sir. And that he’s proud of us.”

That’s just too much. Encke feels how hot tears blind his sight, but it doesn’t matter, he’s just a stupid fighter after all. Strong enough to trigger the cannons, good enough to sit in the bow uselessly for the rest of the flight. No one sees him, no one hears him sob, and that’s perfectly fine as long as Keeler is fine. Without him, Encke realizes, he is nothing.

As soon as the Xanadu touches the floor in the Landing Bay, Cook’s voice in the helmet sounds pissy again. He summons the Lead Navigator to his office immediately, and Abel takes those orders with a diplomacy worthy of his parental home.

The manoeuver was successfull, the recruits are happy and cheering each other when they get out of their ships. Encke can’t concentrate on examining the guns now and decides to save it for later, it has lost importance. Taking the beaming Abel by the hand, he runs towards the lieutenants‘ locker room, his heart racing just like when Keeler kissed him for the first time.

He opens the door and there he stands: small, delicate, elfish, with those big dark circles under his eyes and the greyish skin colour that attests how serious his seizure has been. Before he can even say a word, Encke gets rid of his helmet and hugs him, lifts him and cradles him in his arms like the most precious jewel while Keeler laughs and Abel watches the scene with affection.

After what feels like an eternity, Encke puts his navigator down carefully and nuzzles his nose to his hairline where a faint smell of agony lingers. He refuses to let his hands go. Keeler still smiles.

“I’ll never leave you alone again”, Encke says.

“You both were fantastic out there.” Keeler tears his gaze away from Encke and smiles towards Abel. “You made me proud, Abel, and you convinced me to do what I should have done a long time ago. When I go to Cook’s office now, I’ll bear the consequences finally and I’ll ask for retirement.”

His eyes search Encke’s again in a silent question, but Encke nods and pulls Keeler closer.

“Abel, you’re the reason I can retire in peace”, the Lead Navigator says happily, although for someone knowing him well enough, his voice has an unsteady touch. “I think I found my successor.”

And before a member of the Leading Team comes up with the idea of crying, they both pull the blushing boy closer to wrap him in the kindest and most comradely embrace.


End file.
